


Wannabe

by kel_1970



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kel_1970/pseuds/kel_1970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim dresses up in a very realistic costume.  Things get weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wannabe

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Get Wood! flash-fic challenge at LJ's jim_and_bones community. (Write a fic inspired by lines from the movie. In this case: Spock Prime: “I am Spock.” James T. Kirk: “Bullshit.”)

The shuttle delivering mail from Starbase 10 was unloaded under the supervision of armed guards, after the missing booze incident of the last mail call. Jim insisted that the mail be distributed in reverse order of rank, meaning he would be last. Bones waited for him in the shuttle bay, sitting on the floor poring over a stack of drawings that Joanna had sent, and balancing a number of smallish boxes in a stack next to him on the floor of the deck.

Finally, when Spock had signed for his single, thin envelope, Jim went to the desk to claim his treasures. He had a total of five boxes—all but one of which were no larger than thirty-centimeter cubes. He sorted through them, until he saw the one he was most looking forward to. “They’re here, Bones! C’mon, c’mon! You have to see this—it’s gonna be sooooo awesome!” He chortled in glee as he practically dragged Bones down the corridor to the turbolift that would take them to his—well, their—quarters.

“All right, all right! Jesus, slow down, Jim!”

As he tore through the corridors, Jim was ripping into one particular package, littering the deck with packaging materials. Finally, finally, they reached the door to the Captain’s suite, and Jim keyed in his code.

“Okay,” he said with glee, “Bones, go in the bathroom for a minute while I get set up here. Oh—wait—I need your shirt.”

“My shirt?” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Jim, of all the—” But he knew better than to argue with Jim when he was in goal-accomplishment mode, so he stripped off his blue jersey and tossed it to Jim.

Jim made shooing motions. “C’mon, get in there!”

McCoy shook his head, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. He could hear Jim fussing and giggling. The word “awesome” was clearly audible several times.

“Okay, you can come out now! Hands over your eyes, though, till I say.”

McCoy obeyed, again choosing not to play immoveable object to Jim Kirk’s irresistible force. He slowly and cautiously exited the bathroom, hands over eyes as he’d been instructed. He jumped slightly when Jim’s hands guided him over to the bed and sat him down.

“Jim, this is totally ridicu—”

“Okay, you can look now.”

“Not sure if I want to,” McCoy said sardonically, hands still over his eyes.

“Bones bones bones! It’ll be awesome! Wait, lemme get back in character.” A brief pause. “Okay, Bones, seriously, open up.”

McCoy removed his hands from his eyes, and slowly took in the sight in front of him.

Jim was wearing a blue science division uniform shirt—McCoy’s own, obviously. He’d done something to his hair—it was black and shiny, and laid completely flat. He had dark brown contact lenses over his normally startling blue eyes. And his ears—

“Jesus Christ on a pink trike, Jim.”

His ears were perfectly pointy. Absolutely Vulcanoid, in every respect.

“I’m Spock!” Jim announced proudly.

“Bullshit,” proclaimed Leonard. “You’re a juvenile delinquent captain impersonating his first officer. Who, by the way, would never, ever have that shit-eatin’ grin on his ugly mug.”

“But think about it, Bones! Haven’t you ever wanted to tap that ass? C’mon, this is your chance to give the hobgoblin a run for his money. I’ll even play the part. Watch!”

Jim made a show of composing his facial expression. “Doctor, it would seem highly logical at this time to remove your garments.”

Despite himself, McCoy was becoming amused, and, to his dismay, interested. “I dunno, Jim. I can’t quite see fucking Spock.”

“Bones, Bones Bones Bones! I know that look you have— _something’s_ got your interest piqued. Spill it—I’ll play along; you know I will. You’ve gotta have _some_ Spock fantasy we can work with here.”

What the hell, Leonard thought to himself. It was Jim’s game, and if Jim had fun, chances are, he’d have fun himself. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Well, Jim; there is one thing—”

“Spock! You have to call me Spock for this to work.”

McCoy decided to just play along. He prowled towards ‘Spock,’ with a feral glint in his eye. “Well, Spock; you and I have been heading this way for a long, long time, now. Haven’t we.”

Jim played along admirably. “I do not believe I understand, Doctor.”

“Oh, I can see it in your eyes, Spock. Every time I lay a hand on Jim, every time I give a subtle signal that he’s mine, and I’m his—you notice.”

“Illogical.”

“Oh, maybe so—jealousy is highly illogical. Especially when you know you can never, ever, have what you want.” McCoy drew closer and closer to ‘Spock. “Admit it, Spock. You want him. You always have. But you know somethin’, you green-blooded hobgoblin? I don’t share.”

“Indeed,” ‘Spock’ intoned seriously. “I have observed this pattern.”

“You can’t _have_ him. No, sirree. But—” Bones held up a single finger, and caressed the fine line of ‘Spock’s’ ear— “I might be a pal, and let you _be_ him. I could fuck you the way I fuck him, let you blow me the way he does. You don’t get to _have_ him, but you get to _be_ him. That good enough for you, Spock?” McCoy whispered this last right into the elegantly curved ear in front of him.

“Perhaps,” said ‘Spock,’ “this would be a worthy experiment. Where do you wish to begin?”

“Well, Spock, this is your night, it seems. So you tell me—what is your heart’s desire? Or your liver’s desire, if that’s more accurate.”

‘Spock’ cocked an eyebrow. “I would most fervently desire to be the receptive partner in anal intercourse, if you would please, Doctor.”

McCoy rubbed his hands in glee. “Well, Spock, I think that could be arranged. But first? First, you gotta blow me. That’s the proper order of things. You’re a smart-ass Vulcan—you figure out why. So on your knees, Spock, and get to it.” McCoy wasted no time in dropping his britches.

‘Spock’ complied, and got down on the floor between McCoy’s knees, where McCoy was still seated on the edge of the bed. As McCoy saw the dark head approach his cock, he couldn’t resist touching those ears. They were warm—several degrees warmer than a human ear—and lifelike. As ‘Spock’s’ mouth closed on his cock, McCoy noted several degrees of increased warmth there, as well. The extra heat from ‘Spock’s’ mouth did the trick in firming up McCoy’s erection. He groaned slightly as that extra warm tongue circled the head, teasing. And when ‘Spock’s’ face suddenly plunged down and in, taking him to the hilt in a veritable furnace of warmth and wetness, McCoy couldn’t help crying out. He looked down, and was fascinated by the unfamiliarity of the head between his thighs. Fascinated by the submission he saw.

“Now, Spock,” McCoy said after a while, “if you _do_ want to get fucked up the ass, you’re gonna have to quit that, or it’ll be too late. So drop those britches, then, and lay yourself out for me. And we’ll see if you can take it as nice as Jim. My pretty Jim, all mine. No, leave that blue shirt on; have to be clear about who’s who, now, don’t we.”

‘Spock’ looked heatedly at McCoy, his insanely dark brown eyes locked with McCoy’s hazel ones. “Doctor, I admit, I would prefer to be performing your role, and to be the penetrative partner with the Captain assuming the role of the receptive partner.”

McCoy scowled sharply at Spock. “Well, green guy, that ain’t gonna happen in a million years. ‘Cause first off, the Captain ain’t here. And second off—and I wouldn’t think I’d have to repeat myself with a Vulcan, of all people—I. Don’t. Share. So I recommend you take what you can get, and be happy with it.”

“Happiness is illogical,” said ‘Spock,’ as he began removing his uniform pants. “Satisfaction, however, is a species-universal concept that I will endeavor to—”

“Shut your hot green trap, hobgoblin. On your knees, if you want to get stuffed.” McCoy reached into the bedside stand and pulled out a tube of lube.

‘Spock’ obligingly assumed the indicated position. He couldn’t help letting out a gasp as McCoy’s first finger found its way into the proffered orifice, and circled the tight ring of muscle from the inside. That digit was quickly followed by a second, which drew a groaning sigh from ‘Spock.’ “Oh, fuck, Bones, that’s—”

McCoy pulled out so fast he imagined—or perhaps not—he could hear the sphincter snapping shut on itself. “Let’s make this clear, you overgrown garden gnome: only one person in the universe gets to call me that, and you ain’t him.”

Jim panted, and pulled himself together to get back in character. “I apologize, Doctor,” said ‘Spock.’ “It will not happen again.”

“Hmph.” McCoy returned to his ministrations, and quickly found ‘Spock’ pushing back on his hand, greedily.

“You want somethin’ Spock? You want what Jim gets next?” McCoy slicked up his cock with one hand, while still working ‘Spock’ with the other. He waited for a couple of seconds. “I don’t hear anything! You want it, or not?”

‘Spock’ had to work hard to maintain a level tone. “Indeed. Penetration would be ideal at this time.”

McCoy issued forth a macabre chuckle. “Oh, no. No, no, no. If you want it like my Jim gets it, I wanna hear you beg. Beg for it, Spock, or we’re done here.”

‘Spock’ was getting desperate. “Please, B—Doctor. Please fuck me the way you fuck him. If I cannot have him myself, perhaps I can derive some satisfaction from—uhnf … oh fuck, fuck!”

‘Spock’ was getting what he wanted, it seemed. And after only a short time, ‘Spock’ buried his face in his hands to suppress a cry, as he was overcome by orgasm.

“And Spock? You should hear him. You should hear him when he comes, just for me,” McCoy panted. “He’s glorious, Spock. He’s so beautiful when he falls apart. And you will never,” McCoy punctuated his words with well-timed thrusts— “never, see him like that.” McCoy suddenly stopped moving, clutching at and buried deeply inside this familiar-yet-oh-so-strange body, as his climax hit him like an out-of-control shuttlecraft crashing into pieces on some strange planet.

The two blue-jerseyed Enterprise officers lay panting together on Kirk’s bunk, neither quite sure what had just happened. McCoy pulled out, and rolled onto his back, still trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus,” he said. “Take that shit off, will you?”

False ears and a dark hairpiece fell to the floor. A blue jersey, soaked with sweat and streaked with come, followed. Jim rolled towards Bones, and took his face in his hands, kissing him gently.

“Bones—you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, Jim.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was … uh … weird.”

“Weird’s okay with me, Bones—you know that.”

“That makes one of us, then,” said Bones. “I, uh …”

“Bones,” blurted Jim, “I would never—”

“I know you wouldn’t, darlin’.”

“And I didn’t mean to upset you—I just thought it would be, you know, funny. Like ha-ha, not like weird.”

“It _was_ funny, at first. But I guess I just don’t quite know what came over me, there.” Bones rubbed his face. “Jesus, I need a shower.”

“Bones,” Jim said, rolling so he curled against Bones, laying a hand on his chest. “It’s okay. It’s just you and me.”

Bones looked at Jim seriously. “Yeah, darlin’; it is, isn’t it. But I’ll tell ya—the way he looks at you sometimes, the way his eyes lock on and track you like weapons—”

“I know, Bones. I know. And I think all the crap we’ve heard about the ‘other’ universe, the ‘other’ us—I think it must be hardest for him. He’s lost everything—well, nearly everything—and I know he’s happy with Uhura, or as happy as a Vulcan gets, but if any of us are gonna dwell on the lost ‘other’ it’s gonna be him.”

Bones pondered that for a moment. “I s’pose so.”

“Bones?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“Don’t hate him for it, okay?”

“I don’t. I really don’t, Jim. I think I just kinda, well, had somethin’ built up in my system that I needed to get out, if that makes any sense. I don’t hate ‘im, and I know you don’t love ‘im.”

“No, Bones, I don’t. I respect him, and I appreciate him, but I think the ‘other’ me must’ve been really, awfully different from me, ‘cause I’m not even sure if I even _like_ Spock.”

Jim stroked and cuddled Bones for a while, as Bones lay there with an arm flung over his eyes. Finally, Bones sat up, looked at his lover, and jumped a foot in the air.

“What?!?” Jim exclaimed.

“Lenses. Out. Now.”

“Huh?” asked Jim. “Oh, the eyes. Um, Bones?”

“Do I even wanna know?”

“Probably not. It’s drops—supposed to last another hour or so.”

“Jesus, Jim. You’re allergic to ninety percent of the galaxy, and you dye your eyes with some drops from a Halloween costume?”

Jim didn’t say anything.

“All right,” sighed Bones. “Spill it, Jim. What else?”

“Uh, you might have noticed that my, uh, body temperature was running a little hot...”

“Christ, Jim; you didn’t.”

“Yeah, the metabolism enhancers should go for another couple hours.” Jim squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s kind of creepy, actually—like I’m sick, but not.”

“You _are_ sick,” Bones grumbled. “C’mon. Shower. Tepid. Now.”

“With you?” Jim asked hopefully.

Bones glowered darkly at him. “Of course, you idiot. Of _course_ with me.”

 _~fin~_


End file.
